


Consequences

by stopmysinfulhand



Category: John Wick (Movies)
Genre: Choking, Death, Flirting, John Wick Chapter 3: Parabellum spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 09:49:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20172262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stopmysinfulhand/pseuds/stopmysinfulhand
Summary: You watched each other for a moment, possibly considering each other. “How are you going to do it, John? Kill me, I mean. A knife to the heart? A bullet to the head?”He raised the gun he held in his right hand, just high enough that you could see it.“Hmm,” you said. “That’s all well and good, but you know what I’d really like?”





	Consequences

**Author's Note:**

> This is. Self indulgent.
> 
> Forgive me.

Gunshots in quick succession echoed through the hall behind your shut door. You tried very hard not to cower, but you knew what was coming. Who was coming. “ _ Baba yaga, _ ” you murmured to yourself, eyes trained on the door. The last bodyguard had run out as soon as the first shots were heard, so you were left alone, with nothing but a thigh pistol you kept strapped on during business hours. 

You took a shaky breath as the shots finally stopped. It was eerily silent. The creak of the door was loud enough to startle you.

Then he was there. Black suit, slicked back hair slightly tousled, and that penetrating gaze that premonated your death. He was quiet as could be as he approached your desk, those unnerving black eyes never leaving you. You knew he would not speak first. “Mr. Wick,” you said, trying to sound breezy and failing. “To what do I owe this honor?” You knew he was not one to be buttered up by praise. Much like death itself, he was unshakable and inevitable. John Wick. You heard someone once say he ran on sheer fucking will. But, it couldn’t hurt to try. 

“You know why I’m here,” he said. His voice was gruff and smooth at the same time, and it ran over you like honey. 

You stood, deciding that if you were going to die, you may as well die on your feet. “I’m afraid I don’t, John.” You circled around your desk, standing in front of him. He didn’t move. You had to look up at him. Close up, you could see he was in worse shape than you originally thought, blood trickling slowly from a wound on his neck and welling up on his cheekbone. “Could it be my father’s seat at the table?” you asked, tilting your head slightly. “Are you going for me before you decide to kill him?”

John remained silent. You continued. “If that’s the case, I’m afraid it won’t do you much good,” you sighed. “My father has no love for me. Not really. He simply doesn’t want the shame of knowing he couldn’t protect his only daughter.” 

Fear emboldened you and you took a step forward, slipping your hand around John’s tie. For some reason, he didn’t stop you. Perhaps he knew you were no real threat. “But you, of course, are impossible to be protected from, aren’t you, John?” you asked, your voice a little breathy. “No one can seem to stop the boogeyman.” His dark eyes met yours. “I can feel your anger, the way it comes off you in waves,” you purred. “There’s so much power here. Raw and barely restrained.” 

He never wavered, hardly even blinked. It was incredibly unnerving. You released his tie and slid your hand over his chest. “The sacrifices you’ve made,” you marveled. You took your hand off his chest and carefully took his left hand, turning it so you could see his missing finger. “The dedication. I do so admire you, Mr. Wick.”

When you looked up at his face again, there was almost a sort of curiosity there. “You know, I’m no fan of the Table, myself. I certainly hate my father, and I find their ways.” You hesitated. “Primitive. The code is nice and all, and sure, rules are made for a reason, but to be so harsh to you,” you cooed. You brought your other hand up and cupped his face gently. Your thumb brushed against the cut on his cheek and you brought the digit to your mouth, licking the blood off of it. “After all you’ve done. All over some stupid D’Antonio. He made a choice. Choices have consequences. You know all about consequences, don’t you John?” 

“Yeah,” he muttered gruffly. 

“Yeah,” you repeated, dropping his hand. You leaned against your desk. “Yeah.” 

You watched each other for a moment, possibly considering each other. “How are you going to do it, John? Kill me, I mean. A knife to the heart? A bullet to the head?” 

He raised the gun he held in his right hand, just high enough that you could see it. 

“Hmm,” you said. “That’s all well and good, but you know what I’d really like?” You picked up his hand again and placed it at the base of your neck. “I know it’s a strange request, but please, Mr. Wick. Grant me this one last thing. I understand you’ve got no room for mercy, but perhaps you have room for generosity.” 

John slowly placed his gun in his waistband and nodded slightly. “Sure,” he said, in his usual short manner.

You went over to the sofa in your office and laid down, stretching out as comfortably as you could. John kneeled one knee on the couch, his other leg outstretched as he leaned over you. His hand found your neck and settled there for a moment. Panic seized you as his grip tightened, cutting off your airway, but it faded the longer you stared up at him. You managed to choke out, “Thank you, John,” as your vision started to blur. His impassive face was the last thing you saw, and it was heavenly. 

**Author's Note:**

> Been sitting on this one for a while, debating whether or not I should post it. Guess I decided now was a good time.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please let me know if you have any questions, comments, or concerns. Comments are mighty appreciated.


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